Home is Where the War Is
by kilroyactual117
Summary: Cpl. Willow Mathews was a member of the toughest command of the Marine Corps, the Fearless ODSTs, until one fateful day changed her life forever. The day she lost her legs to the Covenant. Now scarred physically and broken mentally, the war may be over for her, but now she finds herself in a very different battle, one where staying sane and alive will be her hardest fight yet...
1. The scars you can see

**AN: hello all,**

 **This story was one of two stories written mostly for the purpose of overcoming writer's block for my main story, Murphy's law, and turned into a way for me to express several things I was thinking about. as such this story won't last very long, two chapters and that's it. Expect the next one latter next week.**

 **BE ADVISED: this story will get intense.**

 **The first chapter is mostly fluff, as that was the part I wrote mostly for practice and to take my mind off other stories** **, even though it contains a little bit of depression and a couple of PTSD sequences, but the next chapter will deal with several more intense themes.**

 **I'm no fan of trigger warnings, but that list includes PTSD, depression, anxiety, atempted suicide, and mental hospitalization. I don't believe any of it will cross the M boundary, but if you aren't willing to read any of that, don't continue past the first chapter.**

 **Normaly you'll find callous jokes in my author's notes, but trust me, those won't show up here. PTSD is a subject close to my heart, and I hope I do it justice in this story.**

* * *

"Welcome home Willow," were the first words she heard upon returning to the place she had once called home.

Somehow those words infuriated her. Mainly because, until a few weeks ago, her name would have been corporal Mathews, ODST, not just simply Willow.

Returning from the Human-Covenant War had been, needless to say, a big change for her. Her CO had once said that every soldier left a piece of themselves on the battlefield. She had left a great deal more than that.

The event flashed before her eyes once again; an orbital drop, a hard impact, sprinting forward, tripping and falling in the chaos of war. She looked up in horror as she saw a plasma mortar streak towards her. She scrambled as fast as she could out of it's way but wasn't nearly fast enough. The round impacted as her eyes snapped shut and her life flashed before her eyes, and when she opened them again she found herself wishing to God the round had simply hit her head on.

She crawled away from the crater left by the round using her elbows to drag herself and screaming in pain. For several minutes she couldn't bring herself to look down at her legs. She knew what she would find, and when she did she was barely prepared to see her own legs cauterized off at the knee.

She opened her eyes and blinked hard, trying not to show any indication of the horrible vision she had just had to the smiling woman standing before her. She forced a smile and nodded to the woman who was here to welcome her home. It was her own mother after all, and there was no need to give her any more cause to worry for her than she already had.

Despite the fact that her mother had tried so hard to be kind to her and hide her concern for her, she had failed. She hadn't cried when she returned home, simply smiled and welcomed her back, trying her best not to look at her new robotic, prosthetic legs, or the many scars that now criss-crossed her entire body. She had done everything in her power to make it seem like she was simply coming home from a long deployment and everything was back to normal, but her demeanor was as far from normal as it could possibly be.

Willow still saw the concern in her eyes, and watched the way she treated her. She volunteered to open doors for her, pick up things she dropped, and carry things for her, including her heavy duffle bag that she herself was better equipped to carry, as honestly, the prosthetic legs had made her physically stronger than she ever had been before, but still she treated her like an invalid, and it felt awful.

She was a UNSC marine for god's sake, and an ODST at that. She should be the one doing the heavy lifting, not her mother. It was infuriating the way people treated her so gently now, almost as if she might break if they touched her, just because of an injury.

Still, she was polite to her mother, and hugged her, thanking her for all she had done. Her mother had been there for her through thick and thin, and had been worried sick about her when she had joined the Marines, especially since her father had been lost to the war a couple years back, but she still supported her regardless.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay sweetie?" Asked her mother when she pulled away, still gripping her shoulders tightly.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry mom, I just need a moment alone."

Her mother smiled painfully at her once again before releasing her soldiers.

"Take care Willow," she said, her voice more quiet than usual as she turned to leave.

Willow stood there for a moment longer, watching her walk away, before turning into her entirely too clean and brand new apartment that certainly did not feel like home. She had bought an apartment on base at UNSC camp Pendleton on the California coast of the URNA. She'd have to stay close to the base for physical therapy appointments with the on base prosthetist, or else she would have found somewhere far away from here to go.

Feeling like an invalid in front of so many fellow marines was something that embarrassed her beyond belief. She had never felt as though anyone that was combat wounded had anything to be ashamed of, but this was personal, and it effected her way more than it probably should have.

She walked into the apartment's small bathroom and splashed her face with water, trying to clear her thoughts, only to be confronted by a mirror.

Her legs hadn't been the only part of her damaged in the blast. A large piece of shrapnel had left a scar that crossed over the orbit of her left eye. Had the shrapnel cut a fraction if an inch deeper, it would have blinded her. Her shoulder-length auburn hair hid part of a scar that ran along most of her right cheek, and both of her well-built arms had a myriad of scars from where shrapnel had penetrated her armor.

She grimaced at the sight of her own form, and quickly turned away, slumping forward against the bathroom counter and burying her face into her hands.

How am I supposed to face the world if I can barely look at myself?

She wasn't so much embarrassed about her appearance as she was the weakness it portrayed. She was damaged and utterly useless to the Marine Corps, the organization she had given her life to.

She sat there for a good long while, not daring to make a sound, although she had the urge to cry or scream a couple of times. The realization that this would never change set in for her; She would always be broken, she would always be treated differently, she would never be the proud Marine she had once been ever again.

She only stirred from her silence when she heard a small knock at the door.

Willow pulled her hands from her face and stood reluctantly. She honestly didn't want to face whoever was at her door right now, but she would have to face her fear some time or another.

She opened the door slowly to find a smiling, black haired Marine holding a package and a compad.

"Corporal Mathews? Package for you."

She nodded and said nothing, not even meeting his gaze as she accepted the compad and signed for the package, but when she went to thrust the compad back into his hands, she looked up and found he was still smiling at her rather intently.

He was looking her dead in the face, which was odd as her scarred arms were clearly visible given the tank top she was wearing, and although her cargo pants hid them, he had undoubtably heard the annoying sound of actuators and servos moving her prosthetic legs, so why was he looking at her scared face with such a kind look rather than one of disgust or sympathy as she has seen from so many others?

It didn't matter. She simply wanted him gone.

"It's impolite to stare Marine," she said bluntly.

He blushed and examined his shoelaces for a moment. "Oh, uh, sorry, it's just..."

"It's just what?" She spat, cutting him off. "I know why you're staring at me so spit it out and get it over with."

He sighed. "I didn't mean to be rude," he said, his tone surprisingly apologetic, "but you're beautiful. I really couldn't help myself."

She glared intensely at him. How dare he mock her in such a cruel way? Who could be so cold hearted as to make fun of her to her face?

"You know what Marine? I think it's time you left," she said, turning to slam the door on him.

To her surprise his hand shot out and stopped the door before it could close.

"Wait, I'm sorry," he said apologetically, "what did I do?"

She glared at him more intensely. "What did you do?" She asked in fury.

She jabbed a finger at the scar that covered her eye. "You came to my own home and mocked me to my face," she growled, "I have half a mind to deck you right now."

She balled both her hands into fists and gave him an angry death glare that could have obliterated a planet.

He looked surprised for a moment at her reaction, as if completely not anticipating it, and then as if the fact her scars existed had suddenly dawned on him he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and showed her a scar that ran the length of his tricep.

"You really think a little old scar like that one is such a big deal?" He asked with a smile, "I'm a Marine too you know. I've seen my fair share of nasty injuries."

She kept her intense glare locked on him silently for a moment longer, looking for any sign he was lying to her. If he was putting her on she couldn't be held responsible for what she would do to him.

"I'm not mocking you," he said, meeting her intense glare with a kind, honest smile. "I'm sorry if it sounded like that."

He extended his hand for her to shake. "I'm Sean, Sean Wilson. Nice to meet you."

She scanned him over once again, before conceding and shaking his hand. She frowned slightly. By the look on his face and the kindness in his tone she could tell he meant what he said, but her scars had a way of repelling people, and she felt it impossible that anyone could find her beautiful after all that had happened to her.

"Look, Sean," she said, her tone a bit more relaxed, "I'm sorry for lashing out at you like that."

"It's fine," he said, "not the first time I've been rejected by a pretty girl."

Her glared returned, although slightly less intense.

"Okay, I know you're trying to be nice to me, but don't over do it," she said, the tension in her voice rising slightly once again.

He laughed. "And since when were Marines not straight shooters? I'm not just trying to be nice to you. I really meant that."

Now it was her turn to examine her shoe laces. He couldn't really mean what he was saying, right? She honestly couldn't say she'd found anyone scarred like herself attractive before, so why would he?

Personally, he seemed like a nice guy, but she just wanted to be left alone right now.

"Hey, I've got to go," he spoke, as if he had just read her mind, "the CO has me running some errands. I work in the quartermaster's department. Maybe you could stop by sometime?"

The look she gave him was not hopeful. "Yeah, maybe," she responded dryly, and shut the door on him.

She read the label on the package he had handed her. It was from an old friend from high school, probably a care package of some kind, but she didn't even bother to open it.

She flopped down on her bed, slipping off her prosthetics and closing her eyes. There was many parts of life she would have to learn to move on with, but that could wait. Sleep was what she need most now.

* * *

Her rest was fitful, to say the least. She woke up screaming, dripping sweat, and tangled under the covers from thrashing in her sleep. She collapsed backwards and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She had once again relived the awful feeling of losing a pice of herself, seeing it in all it's horrible, vivid detail. Every part of her ached and she felt no more rested than she did the day before. She rolled over so that she was face down in the pillow and cried. Crying alone made her feel miserable and weak, but it was all she could do to halt the painful memories.

As soon as she was able she headed for the shower, allowing herself to collapse against it's wall and let the steamy, hot spray wash over her.

Showering helped to alleviate some of the stress, but she still felt like absolute crap. She needed to get back in the fight to take her mind off of this, and fortunately, she knew just how to do that. The base had a state-of-the-art war games combat simulator that she was certain she could call in a favor to use.

She dressed, and threw open the door to jog to the base, and was a little bit surprised by what she found on the door.

It was a small piece of actual paper, something she hadn't seen in years, with Sean's name and phone number on it.

In case you take me up on my offer, it read towards the bottom.

She almost wadded it up and threw it away, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to. She jammed it into her pocket before taking off for the base once again.

Fortunately, not many people were supposed to use the simulator that day, so she was able to get a time slot fairly quickly. When the Marine at the desk asked her if she thought it was a good idea for her to be doing this, it only took one glare to convince him that she should be.

She suited up in a suit of ODST battle armor, entered a simulated drop pod, and flipped on a string of difficulty modifiers. As the round started, the simulator buffeted the pod to make it feel like she was actually falling, then jerked it upward as it "hit" the ground. The door popped open, and she dashed onto the virtual reality battlefield. Taking cover before the round started.

"Set, start. Tough luck, famine, catch, black eye, on. Bonus round. Good luck," said the war games AI announcer in it's deep, smug voice, and she proceeded to fight through wave after wave after wave of simulated Covenant, robotically taking down as many as she could.

The waves became progressively harder and harder with the simulated enemies becoming stronger and stronger, until at last she heard a sound she never wished to hear again in her life. The ghostly, unmistakeable sound of a simulated wraith tank dropping onto the battlefield.

She began to hyperventilate, images of that day streaking across her vision and brought her to state of complete panic. She tried to convince herself it was just a holographic projection, but it was no use. Panic set in, and she was frozen in place as a simulated plasma mortar streaked towards her. It impacted, the concussive force knocking her five meters backwards and slamming her against a wall.

"No lives left. Round over," said the war games announcer, and the realistic terrain and holographic Covenant faded to a white room with hydraulically raised surfaces. A corpsman rushed out to see if she was ok.

"Corporal Mathews, are you ok?" He asked, but she didn't respond. She was still breathing raggedly and trying to focus on anything but that tank.

She couldn't get it out of her brain, the hot plasma having seared it into her memory.

She pushed the corpsman off of her and stood shakily, determined to walk to the locker room under her own power. She wouldn't allow herself to feel week, she wouldn't allow herself time to grieve, after all, how was she ever going to move on with life if these stupid memories kept doing this to her?

She needed a better distraction.

She stripped her armor quickly, and put on athletic clothes to go for a run. It didn't matter how tired she was, she would do anything to push that stupid memory out of her mind.

When she exited the locker room only one person stood in the observation area of the simulator. It was Sean, and he had the same kind smile on his face he did yesterday. In no small way, that infuriated her.

"Hey Willow. That was a helluva fight. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

She glared at him. "Same place you and everybody else here did. Now what are you doing here?"

He didn't drop his grin for a moment. "Oh, nothing. I saw you walk in here and wasn't doing anything at the time, so I decided I might as well cheer you on, and maybe ask you what your plans were for tonight?"

Wow, he still thinks this is going to work.

"In you dreams jarhead," she spat.

He looked visibly disappointed. "So, you won't even think about it?"

She glared daggers at him. He got the message and turned to leave, but as he was leaving, Willow began to feel a bit guilty about turning him down like that. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and he hadn't given her any reason to say no so harshly.

Determined not to ruin her tough exterior, she walked slowly after him.

"Hey," she called after him, not taking even the slightest bit of edge out of her tone.

He spun around and looked at her, grinning once again as if he could see right though her tough demeanor and tone. She hated that. She had become this way for a reason, so that she would never be hurt by anything or anyone, alien or human ever again, and for some reason his gentle smile made her feel vulnerable.

"I'll think about it," she continued after a moment, "but only if you can keep up with me on a run."

He nodded, looking rather confident in the face of her proposition. "You've got yourself a deal."

little did he know how much of a challenge the run would be. She smirked and took off out the door, with Sean running as fast as he could after her.

Despite her disability, Sean could barely keep up with her. Before she was wounded she had already been the fastest in her company, and now with the enhanced speed and endurance afforded to her by robotic legs, she could outpace just about anyone in the Marine Corps.

She ran far into the hills above the camp, with Sean nearly sprinting to keep up. When they arrived at a cliff overlooking the sea Willow stopped, and surprisingly, Sean wasn't far behind.

He collapsed against a tree, completely out of breath and dripping sweat.

"So, is that what you call keeping up with me?" She said with a smirk.

He didn't respond for several seconds, still desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Hey, I kept up with you just fine," he said before pausing for another breath, "a deal is a deal."

She laughed. "What deal? I said I'd think about it. Honestly, I don't think that performance gave me much to think about at all."

She sat down on a rock facing the ocean, and slowly but surely, Sean moved to join her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He asked, staring out at the view.

"I didn't come here for the scenery," she said sharply.

"Oh really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why did you?"

"I came here to ask you what you see in me," she said sharply, "I'm fucking broken. Can you not see that?"

He smiled kindly at her. "What makes you think you're broken?"

She really hated this act of his, particularly she hated the way he was acting as though he hadn't even seen any of the injuries she had. He wasn't blind. She shouldn't have to suffer the indignity of explain this to him.

Instead of the angry rebuke she had thought about giving him, she found herself staring at the ground in front of her, embarrassed by her disability.

To her surprise, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, just because you're injured doesn't mean you're broken. You've got more life in you than most do. I've never seen anything like what you did in that war games match. You fought more Covenant singlehandedly than a whole squad of Marines could have handled. If anyone is living proof of how someone can go through hell and back and move on, it's you."

She wanted to smile at his comment, it really had been quite sweet, but she couldn't break her cold personality just yet, it was just too much of a risk to leave herself vulnerable to rejection and hurt.

She wrenched his hand from her shoulder.

"Don't touch me," she said indignantly.

He laughed. "Sorry, I didn't realize trying to comfort you was such a bad thing."

"I don't need comforting," she snarled, "and don't act like you can say any of those things about me. You barely know me."

"Well, I offered to get to know you a half hour ago, and you turned me down."

She rolled her eyes. This guy really did seem to care about her, but how could she be sure? How could she trust him enough to see any of her truly broken self? Not just her damaged body, but what the trauma had done to her mind.

"Come on Willow, just one night. That's all I ask."

She sighed, and allowed some of the edge to leave her voice. "Fine, one night."

His face lit up with a smile that, although she would never admit it, was quite enjoyable to see. It felt good that somebody was that happy to have her agree to a date.

She wrote down her phone number for him on a sheet of paper and handed it to him with a grin.

"So what did you have in mind?" She asked.

He grinned. "You'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

Sean's house wasn't far from the base. It wasn't to terribly far from the beach, and seemed to be kept in a lot better shape than most other houses of it's kind.

Willow walked up to the door slowly and knocked, not really sure what to expect.

When he opened the door Willow was surprised to find him in a shirt, tie, and dress pants.

Taking a moment to actually look at him a little less critically made her realized that he actually looked good. His eyes were bright, especially as they were silhouetted against the relative dark of the twilight. The only problem was that she was dressed in a simple t-shirt and cargo pants, a far cry how he had cleaned up. She tried to convince herself that she was dressed like this because she didn't care about this "date," she was just here to humor Sean and he would no doubt reject her just as she expected him to, and she would feel nothing for it, but she still felt a little embarrassed in spite of herself.

"Hey Willow. Come in." He said with a smile, as if not noticing how she was dressed.

She rubbed the back of her neck, still feeling a bit embarrassed. "Hey, I didn't know we were going any place fancy. I would've dressed better."

He shook his head. "What are you talking about? You look great. Besides, we're not going anywhere unless you want to. Come on, I've got a surprise for you and I'm sure you'll like it."

She smiled weakly at his comment. As much as she hated to admit it, it did feel nice to be treated as kindly as he treated her then.

He gestured for her to enter, and reluctantly she complied.

The rest of his house was just as clean and simple as the outside, with the notable exception of the kitchen, which looked like a professional kitchen. Considering the high end expensive appliances and the meager salary of a Marine, he must have sunk half a year's pay into it.

She followed him out into the houses relatively small backyard, and was surprised, and just a little bit impressed at what he and set up for her. He had set up a candle lit dinner under the stars. The food looked amazing, and she had to admit he had really put some time and thought into this.

"Wow. Who knew a jarhead like you could be so disgustingly romantic?" she said with a grin.

He laughed, and Willow sat down to examine the food he had prepared. It was just steak, but it was prepared like it had come from a five star restaurant. It smelled amazing and tasted even better. A glass of wine and a couple of side dishes she had never seen before sat beside the meal as well

"And you cook too. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Culinary school," he said with a smile, "before I was a Marine I was running some big shot restaurant in new Phoenix, but getting drafted ended that."

She nodded, and looked down at her plate once again.

The smile began to fade from her face as doubt once agin crossed her mind.

Why is he doing all this for me? She thought. It's not like I've treated him well, or given him any reason to want to be nice to me, much less ask me out and make a fancy dinner for me.

Most of the rest of the night was spent in painfully slow conversation. Sean didn't seem to have an end to the amount of questions he wanted to ask her; about herself, her life, her family, anything he could think of. She didn't make it easy on him to get answers, mostly keeping her answers to yes, no, and maybe the odd complete sentence in response. She didn't ask anything in return, and he didn't attempt to say anything about himself at all. Honestly it looked more like an interrogation than an actual conversation.

It truly wasn't that she didn't like him, or that she would get any enjoyment out of seeing his well planned evening ruined for him, it was that she just couldn't bring herself to open up and trust him. The fancy dinner, the kind words, the at least twenty times he managed to tell her she was beautiful, even though she tried to make it as hard as possible for him, it all just felt fake.

Maybe it was because she didn't feel she deserved this kind of attention. She had had more than a few male admirers before she became a Marine, but even before she was wounded no one had ever gone through this amount of trouble to make her feel good about herself, which begged the question, what did he want?

As if he had read her mind, he sighed and looked dejectedly downward at his plate, having just finished another question he hoped would start a conversation, looking more than a little discouraged by her relative silence.

"Sean," she said, trying to remove any of the sharpness her voice normally carried.

"Yes?" he responded, just as dejectedly as he looked.

"Sean, what is all this?" She asked in honesty. "Why are you doing all this for me? You're a nice guy, and you could have so many girls better than me, so please, just tell me what you want from me and get it over with?"

Willow wasn't prepared for how hurt Sean looked once those words left her lips, and she immediately wished she could take them back. The sadness in his eyes made her realize immediately that he hadn't done this for any reason other than to make her happy, and now she felt incredibly guilty over having said that.

"Willow, I don't want anything from you," he said, the disappointment in his voice painfully obvious. "If it seemed that way I'm truly sorry. I simply wanted to make you happy, and honestly, I don't see why you think for some reason I'm trying to mock you and that I secretly think you're horribly ugly. You're not, and I meant every word I said about you. If you want to leave now and forget this night ever happened, please do, but just know I wasn't being dishonest. You really are beautiful."

He stood and picked up his plate, heading for the kitchen and not meeting her gaze for a moment.

Her heart sank, and she quickly rushed to stop him.

"Sean, wait," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

He spun around, and once again she was confronted by his awful look of hurt directed straight at her.

She sighed. Honestly she wasn't sure if she was ready to fully take down her walls and open herself up to the possibility of being hurt, but it was what Sean had done for her, and he had certainly been burned for it. The least she could do was do the same for him.

"Sean, I'm so sorry." She said in honesty. "I didn't want this night to end like this, but I'm just a bitter, arrogant fool so couldn't see you were just trying to be nice to me. If you want me to leave, I will, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for ruining your evening. It really was very kind of you to do all this."

She braced herself for whatever he might say, and ready to accept whatever it was, but to her surprise a truly forgiving look washed over his face, and he smiled at her gently.

"You've been through a lot recently, haven't you Willow?"

She nodded, a single, small tear forming in her eye as she once again was met with flashes of memory from that fateful day.

"I don't blame you for being apprehensive. Stuff like that can be hard on you in more ways than one."

He had no idea how true his words rang to her. Just the mention of it brought back painful memories that she could hardly bare to remember. Numbing herself was no use, she had already ripped down too many walls tonight. She looked at the floor with a sad expression, trying to hide the pain in her eyes.

Sean noticed though, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, and rather push him away, she wrapped her arms around him and embraced him. She refused to allow herself to cry over the memories she was experiencing, no matter how bad she wanted too, and his embrace was about all that was stopping her from doing so.

"It's ok Willow, let it go," he said, his grip on her incredibly protective and his voice crushingly tender. She allowed a couple of years to run down her face, which quickly turned into a silent stream of hot tears.

Being held by him was nice, but she was the first to break off the embrace, still wanting to maintain some semblance of dignity out of all this.

"You aren't a fancy dinner kind of girl anyway, are you?" He asked with a smile, as though trying to distract her from the pain.

She shook her head in the negative, allowing a weak smile to cross her face, and he laughed.

"Alright, how about a movie instead?"

For a moment she felt guilty about his kindness. She had just chewed him out. Did she really deserve the length he was going through to comfort her and get her to stay?

Sensing how she was feeling, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Look, we've both had a long day. How about we just forget any of that ever happened and start this over again?"

She smiled and nodded, sitting down on the couch next to him. He let her pick a movie, and seemed only momentarily surprised when she picked an action movie.

She smiled at him. "What did you expect? A chick flick? I hate sappy love stories."

He smiled right back. "Glad your sense of humor has returned."

Initially they gave each other some distance. Willow really wasn't sure wether she wanted to be close to him yet, more out of guilt than anything, but eventually he managed to inch close enough to slip and arm around her, and pulled her close to him.

Normally she would have rebuked him for such an action and made fun of him for making such a dumb move, but he had already risked enough hurt to make her happy. He deserved a little bit of affection.

She curled up close to his shoulder, and had to admit, the feeling was nice, very nice. So nice that she began to close her eyes from lack of sleep, and eventually drifted off on his shoulder.

God did that feel good, sleep. The dreams didn't come as she expected them to. The horrible dreams she had had every day since she lost her legs. She didn't wake sweaty and exhausted, instead she woke rested and content and warm.

When she woke she found herself still on Sean's couch, covered in a blanket.

She felt a bit of embarrassment for having fallen so heavily asleep in someone else's house. She was sure he had to have felt uncomfortable with her just falling asleep on his shoulder. Honestly she was surprised he had let her sleep at all.

As she stood and partially shrugged one of the blankets off. The first blanket he had placed over her hadn't covered all of her, and had left her feet exposed. Despite the fact that they were prosthetic, and couldn't feel cold anyway, he had draped a blanket over them.

She smiled. She was beginning to like the way he treated her like everyone else. She still thought that he had to be into some weird stuff to find her beautiful, but with the way he said it she was certain he wasn't lying.

Sean walked in a moment latter, carrying a cup of coffee and smiling brightly.

"Hey, you're awake. Sleep well?"

She smiled sleepily. "Yes actually. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Well, from the way you were sleeping you looked like you needed it. I wasn't about to begrudge you some time to rest."

She laughed. "You have no idea."

He sat down at the end of the couch and handed her the cup. She accepted it and drank the piping hot liquid slowly, warming her from head to toe and waking her up gently.

This all felt incredibly nice, and so oddly normal. In a world where aliens lived to attack humans and the galaxy and after such a huge change had happened in her life, somehow this just felt perfect.

She still felt quite guilty over how she had treated Sean though. How would she ever make up for treating him like dirt when all he had been to her was kind. If he agreed to speak to her after today, she would be damn surprised.

She set down her cup of coffee and let out a long breath. "Sean, I'm so sorry for last night. You didn't deserve that."

He smiled and shrugged. "I understand. Messed up stuff happens to you down range, coming home for anyone is kind of hard to swallow. For you, I can't even imagine."

"Thanks, for all this," she said with a smile.

"Don't mention it," he said with a smile. "I just can't wait to see how great next time will be."

She laughed. "Next time? Really? After all I put you through?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't all that bad. Besides, you're cute when you play hard to get."

She smiled and laughed. "Well, in that case, I'll think about next time, and if there is a next time, make it a little less formal. Okay?"

He nodded, took her hand, and kissed it gently. "You really are beautiful, you know that."

She rolled her eyes at the arcane gesture and pulled her hand away. "Oh will you shut up and kiss me already? It's not like you haven't been waiting to this whole time."

A wide smile crossed his face, and he rested his hands on her waist, pulling her in for a gentle, slow quick kiss.

It felt nice, although she would never admit it. Being treated gently was simply something she hadn't experienced in an incredibly long time, and it felt almost foreign now, although slow and gentle really wasn't her style at all.

"Wow, that was the shittiest kiss I have ever had," she said with an evil grin, "You'd expect more from a Marine."

"Oh really?" he said with a smile, "how about you show me how it's done?"

She didn't respond verbally, and instead grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him in for a long, generous kiss, that started out slow, but slowly built until they were both entwined in a deep, passionate kiss. Sean carded his hands into her hair, becoming completely lost in her, until she abruptly pulled away and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

"That, is how you kiss someone," she said calmly.

Sean was breathing hard and quickly. His eyes seemed to be on fire and a smile the likes of which she had never seen was plastered on his face. She decided she would have to add someone being that happy to be kissed by her to the list of great feelings she had relearned today.

With a coy smile she stood and headed for the door. "I think I've overstayed my welcome. See you soon?"

He smiled. "Well, since I assume I can't convince you to stay, I guess so."

She nodded and shut the door behind her, feeling refreshed and smiling slightly to herself. Yes, there was certainly some things left to get used to, but she could figure it out. She always had.

* * *

 **So, this chapter ended rather hopefully, but the next one will not be so fluffy.**

 **You've been warned.**


	2. The scars you can't

**AN: So, I realize this story is super short, but that was the intention. I could very well have made this story twenty or more chapters long, and in the begining I wanted to, but I'm currently writing two multi-chapter stories, and that alone keeps me from expanding on this in any meaningful way, so I published this to make sure Willow and Sean saw the light of day, even if it was for a brief moment.**

 **I've got an outline for a larger story based on this one, but I'm not so sure...**

 **Oh well, maybe if this story is received well enough, or when I finish Just Say It or Murphy's Law...**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Willow was not happy.

Doctors appointments never made her happy, but this one was exceptionally infuriating. Someone in some personnel office somewhere had decided that she needed to see a psychiatrist after what had happened to her, and psychiatrist was the last person she wanted to see right now.

She realized that this appointment was routine for soldiers returning from deployment with extensive injuries, but still it infuriated her that the UNSC saw fit to have her see a psychiatrist. She wasn't some nutcase in need of a section-8 discharge, she was a perfectly capable, functional Marine. What had happened to her might have changed her, but she could still shoot straighter, fight harder, and run faster than any Covie bastard she would ever encounter

Oohra.

Still, she sat respectfully as doctor Lindsay McCarthy questioned her incessantly about her mental state, and she tried to answer as best she could.

"Willow, have you experienced increased hostility or anxiety since your return from deployment?"

She rolled her eyes.

Well, that one was a no-brainer. Sean sure had felt the effects of that one.

"Yes," she answered flatly.

"And how has that manifested itself?"

Willow shrugged. "I don't know. I have a harder time trusting people. I've chewed out more than a few people who didn't deserve it since my return."

Doctor McCarthy pursed her lips and looked down at the compad she was using to take notes.

Willow didn't like the look on her face. She looked almost as though she had already come to her conclusion on what was wrong with her before their appointment was over.

"What about flashbacks?" Asked Lindsay, "Have you experienced any of those?"

Willow became visibly tense. She certainly had experienced those in their full force. She could still remember the terror she felt during that training exercise as the simulated wraith mortar streaked towards her, her pounding earth and the undeniable sense of impending doom that had made her feel week, helpless, and everything else she had promised herself she would never feel again.

"Willow?" Asked doctor McCarthy after a moment.

"Yes," she said, snapping out of her frozen state.

The doctor looked at her with sad eyes. It was almost as if she knew just how much pain Willow was in, but she didn't, no one else did, and no one else understood the reason why this appointment needed to be over with as quickly as possible.

She needed to get back in the fight and get back at the Covenant for what they had taken from her.

"Is that a yes, or a no?" Asked Lindsay.

Willow sighed. There was no use in lying. The doctor evidently knew the truth anyway.

"Yes," she said, "but why does that have anything to do with my return to duty? Plenty of soldiers have bad dreams."

Now it was Lindsay's turn to sigh. "Willow, a flash back is more than a bad dream. If you are reliving your experience in combat on a constant basis it can wear down your psyche to a dangerous level. Sometimes it can lead to thoughts of suicide. Have you had any thoughts like that recently?"

"No!" Said Willow indignantly.

Unfortunately, that couldn't be further from the truth. Suicide had been something she had contemplated frequently since her return. She had never acted on it, but sometimes the thought of living with this disability of her's was something she simply couldn't stand, and it seemed like such a blissfully easy way out of her pain, but she had refused the simplicity of it. She still had work left to do.

Doctor McCarthy clearly didn't believe her.

"Please be truthful Willow. There's nothing shameful in any of this. I'm just trying to get you the best help I can."

Willow glared at her. "I told you the truth and you won't believe it. I'm done talking."

Doctor McCarthy frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

She nodded. "Take care Willow. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Willow stood and stormed out without a word. She rushed home to her apartment, and began angrily pacing as soon as she entered the door.

 _How dare the doctor talk about me like that, she thought, she can't act like she knows me. She doesn't understand why I need to fight. She never will._

Her compad buzzed as she received a message from the doctor. She had failed her psychological evaluation.

"Damnit!" She cursed aloud.

That left her only one more chance to return to active duty. Her physical test.

With the war going like it was the UNSC needed every available Marine on the front lines, and Willow new if she passed her physical with flying colors she may be allowed back in regardless of her injury.

She had to be allowed back in, she had to...

She was stirred from her thought by a knock at the door. She angrily threw it open to find Sean standing in the door way, smiling at her and holding a paper bag.

"Hey Willow. Just thought I'd drop by and give this to you," he said, holding it out to her.

Whatever was in the bag was food of some kind, and damn did it smell good, but she knew why Sean was here and that angered her more than a little bit of food could remedy.

She glared at him. "I told you my evaluation was today? Didn't I? That's why you're here, to check up on me right?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. I'm just here because I thought you might need something to eat. That's all."

He extended the bag towards her, and she narrowed her eyes to slits. She knew that wasn't the truth. He was here to comfort her, probably because he expected her to fail the examination.

"You're a really bad liar Sean."

He sighed. "Look, if you won't let me in, please at least take the food. You look like you've had a long day."

She reluctantly accepted the bag and looked inside. It was two hamburgers, presumably one for each of them. It was a far cry from Sean's last attempt at romancing her by cooking for her.

"You told me to make it less formal," he said with a smile.

She sighed exasperatedly. Maybe she was being to hard on him. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

She reluctantly invited him in and set the food down on her small living room coffee table.

Willow pulled off her prosthetics and sat down next to Sean. As he had in the past, he barely seemed to notice her legs at all, keeping his gaze level with her eyes and smiling at her just the same as he had before.

The same doubt built up in her. Doubt that he really could think of her as anything but a useless cripple.

He leaned in to kiss her, but she jerked away from him, denying him the ability to even touch her.

He frowned. "Are you feeling ok Willow?"

"I'm fine," she said indignantly, "just because I won't kiss you doesn't mean I'm sick, that's a privilege not a right, and even if I wasn't I'd see a doctor. Not you."

Sean tried hard not to look hurt, but that just made her feel more guilty for the comment. She knew he hadn't been trying to take advantage of her, but she simply wasn't ready to jump right back into that, no matter how good it had felt in the past.

It was just too much right now.

Sean backed off, and the two ate in silence for a while longer. Willow refused to even meet his gaze, much to Sean's disappointment. She looked like she was in no small amount of pain, and for the life of him Sean didn't understand why she wouldn't let him help.

He reached over to rub shoulder, but she shrugged him off and glared at him.

"Will you quit trying to touch me?"

"Sorry," he said apologetically, "you just seem tense."

She rolled her eyes. "So what if I seem tense? It's not your place to fix that, and I never gave you permission to touch me. We went on one date, quit acting like you're my boyfriend or something."

Sean was visibly hurt by her comment. She felt a momentary pang of guilt for saying that. She doubted he was upset because she wouldn't put a name to their relationship so quickly, probably because he simply wanted to help her.

Still, she ignored him and said nothing, hardening her facial expression so he couldn't see the sadness in her eyes.

"Please, don't shut me out Willow," he said in a saddened tone.

She bit her lip and frowned. "Sean, I'm not in good place right now."

"I know." He replied. "I just wish you'd tell me why."

"Fine!" She exclaimed, "You want to know why? I failed my evaluation. If I don't pass the physical exam with flying colors I may never return to active duty, hell, they might just discharge me altogether. I can't be discharged! I need to fight. I have to."

Instead of shutting Sean up like she expected her comment to, it only made him seem more sad.

"Willow..." He said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She accepted his touch for a brief moment. It felt good in a way to be comforted, but it only made her feel more week, and she wouldn't have that, so she shrugged it off.

She didn't lash out at him. She instead simply crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the floor in despair.

"Willow, are you sure this isn't for the best?"

That jerked her out of her calm state. She snapped her attention back to him, furious once again.

"What the hell do you mean?" She spat, "you think I'm some crazy section eight too, don't you?"

"No, I never said that," he tried to say, "I'm simply saying that if you're in pain maybe it's for the best that you stay here and get treated. It will only get worse if you force yourself into a bad situation."

Willow wouldn't hear it.

She shoved him away from her, her eyes blazing with rage. Even Sean, the one person who never seemed to have a bad word to say about her thought she was insane. It was up to her now, and her alone.

"Just leave. I don't need you, and I certainly don't need your opinion on my mental state. Now get out!"

Sean frowned and tried to move closer to her. "Please, don't shut me out Willow."

She shoved him back once again and glared daggers at him.

"Now!"

He paused for a moment, then nodded gravely and turned to leave.

"Take care of yourself Willow," he said as he walked defeatedly towards the door.

She didn't even look at him as he left. She didn't need him, she didn't need anyone. What she needed to do was get back at the Covenant.

* * *

She had three days to prepare for her physical exam, and she spent nearly every waking hour of that time training and practicing with weapons. She exercised relentlessly, pushing herself further than even she thought she could go, but there was only one hurdle of the exam she wasn't sure she could pass, the combat simulation.

Her exam one consist of two parts; a PT evaluation, and a session in the war games combat simulator. She knew that she would have to face armored vehicles during that simulation, and more than likely, one of them would be a wraith.

She knew what she had to do to get over her fear, but still she put it off until the day before the exam.

She headed down to the camp's ordnance range, and filled out a requisition form for six inert, training rounds of rocket launcher ammo and one target, a wraith tank.

She stood on the firing line of the range with her eyes closed and her rocket launcher shouldered, the dusty wind of the camp wiped around her and kept her grounded and focused as she prepared herself for what she was about to do.

"Target, front target," said her spotter, identifying her target of choice through his range finder, "armored vehicle, type 26 assault gun carriage, tone?"

Willow paused for a moment, then opened her eyes, settling the optic of the rocket launcher on the center of the wraith and began waiting for the lock on tone.

Instantly her heart began to pound, her breathing quickened and began to see red as all of her focus was centered on the tank. Her throat was closing, panic was setting in.

 _Deep breaths Willow, you got this_ , she thought. If only she believed that.

She began to shake slightly as she held her eyes on the tank. The reticle of the launcher's optic shifted all around her target.

 _Damnit Willow, stay focussed._

"Corporal, tone?" Asked her spotter once again, waking Willow from her panic, if only slightly.

Panic had set in so much that she hadn't noticed the launcher had already given her the lock on tone she needed for the rocket to track it's target.

"Tone...locked," she said in a shaky voice, bracing herself to pull the trigger.

"Fire," said the spotter.

She hesitated, her finger shaking as she tried to apply force to the trigger to no avail.

"Not this time you Covie bastards," she said aloud as she finally jerked the trigger twice, sending both of the launcher's rockets streaking towards the target.

Her hand began to shake as she watched the rockets soar towards the target, so much so that the launchers computer lost its lock on the wraith.

 _No! No! No!_ She thought.

She tried desperately to require her target, but couldn't in time. The two inert rockets sailed off into the distance, exploding into flashes of chalk on a hillside near the target.

"Negative effect on target," said the spotter, more than a little surprised.

She let out a long breath, not even realizing she had been holding one, and dropped the launcher onto the table in front of her. She collapsed to the dirt and gravel floor of the range, hyperventilating and shaking violently while she covered her visor with her hands, fighting to hold back tears. The same, annoying and terrifying images of the round streaking towards her, the horror of the first sight of her new legs, images she was sure would never leave her mind.

The spotter knelt down next to her.

"Corporal, are you ok?" He asked with concern.

She barely restrained herself from taking a swing at him. Instead she tore off her helmet and threw it to the ground, glaring at him intensely.

The spotter got the message and backed off. Willow sat there for a few more minutes trying to collect herself.

How am I going to pass this test if I can't shoot a piece of scrap metal? She cursed.

She would figure it out, she had to. She wouldn't let this get in her way.

* * *

The day of her physical came quicker than she thought.

She hadn't gotten in nearly enough training to feel prepared, and she knew the course would be stacked against her. None of the doctors she had seen wanted her to return to active duty, and she was certain that they would set up the evaluation to be impossible to pass, so she would just have to do the impossible anyway.

On top of that, several high ranking Marine Corps officials were going to be watching her performance tonight. Never before had a Marine so critically wounded attempted to return to active duty, and many of her superiors were impressed.

They would be watching her with a critical eye.

It didn't matter thought. She had already passed the PT portion of the exam, which although extremely difficult, she had managed to pass with flying colors.

Now all that was left was the combat test.

She pulled on her battle armor and ran a system diagnostic, checked her battle rifle and rocket launcher to ensure training rounds had been loaded, and sat on the floor with her legs crossed, breathing deeply and attempting to concentrate on the task at hand.

 _It's just a simple combat test_ , she thought to herself, _I have no need to be afraid of a piece of Covenant hardware._

If only she thought that were true.

Another ODST opened the door of the locker room and looked in.

"Corporal Mathews," he said, "it's time."

She nodded and put on her helmet, retrieved her rifle and launcher and entered the all-to-familiar simulated drop pod, strapping herself in for the simulation.

She looked up to give the other ODST a thumbs up to indicate she was ready, and to her complete surprise found Sean standing in front of her.

He looked just as sad as he had the day she had told him off. She assumed he was here to stop her from taking the test, and she wasn't about to listen to any of his attempts to dissuade her.

"I'm taking this test Sean. You can't stop me," she said with scorn, not meeting his gaze for a moment.

"I know. I just came to say good luck," he said with a weak smile, "I'll be in the observation room, so at least you'll have someone rooting for you."

She rolled her eyes. "You sure have a fetish for watching me fight, don't you? Go home and watch the news. I'm sure you'll see some Spartan's battlefield heroics. They're much more interesting."

He frowned. "You know I'm not here to see you fight Willow."

"Then why are you?" She shot back.

"Because believe it or not I care about you, and I don't want to see you hurt."

The way he said that made Willow stop dead in her tracks. He sounded almost angry. He had never responded to any of her actions with anger, no matter how poorly she treated him, so why was something she was doing to herself have such an affect on him?

She didn't care, or at least that was what she told herself. Sean's comments would only rattle her, and that was not what she needed right now.

"I'm already hurt Sean," she spat as she closed the drop pod, "I'm pretty sure I can't make it much worse."

The pod's glass went opaque, so she wasn't able to see his reaction, and that was probably for the best.

 _"Firefight!"_ Said the war games announcer, indicating the mode it was set to, _"destroy enemies to score points."_

She braced herself in her seat as the pod's simulated drop began, and her stomach shot into her throat from the 9 Gs of simulated acceleration.

The pod impacted with a thud and the door exploded open. She jumped out into the virtual battlefield, which was set up as a crumbling, abandoned section of highway overpass. A ruined city surrounded her in the distance, and the grey sky looked like it was threatening to rain, which it could if the AI decided to add that as a simulation variable. roads lead in on four sides, and she knew Covenant would be coming in from each, meaning her position had to be strategic.

She set up on top of the overpass and found the most likely place the enemy would come from first, and began to target incoming infantry with her rifle, methodically taking them down as they approached.

At first it looked as though the infantry would be relatively easy to defeat, but they just kept coming and coming in waves far bigger than normal firefight matches. At one point there were so many on the map that she began to see some of their AI glitching, as it became too hard for the computer to handle the amount of AI on the field.

She began to see red as she continued to mow down the hoards of advancing infantry, her resolve renewed to take out as many of them as she could.

She peaked over her cover and fired several bursts at them, and in her rage ended up exposing herself for a moment too long.

A needler round impacted her in the shoulder, and it stung like snake bite as the pain receptors in her specialized simulation battle armor triggered, making it almost impossible for her to move her shoulder without screaming in pain.

She dropped to her knees and pulled out a can of biofoam, spraying the wound until the armor's receptors returned to normal.

She reshouldered her rifle and peaked back out of cover, only to be confronted by the sound of a familiar, wining engine and a bulbous, purple shape of a vehicle she had grown all too familiar with.

 _Wraith!_ She thought to herself.

She tried not to look at it as she cleared out the remaining infantry. Normally a wraith marked the end of a firefight match. All she would have to do is destroy it and she would pass her combat exam.

Once the last grunt fell she dropped her rifle and shouldered her rocket launcher, aiming it directly at the tank.

Panic, hyperventilation, and tunnel vision began to settle in once again. She took deep breaths, focusing on the task at hand and devoting all her concentration to keeping the launcher on target and waiting for the tone to indicate it had locked on to it's target. Her vision began to blur and redden as the seconds wore on, her whole body shivering as she thoughts of her target, what it had done to her body and her mind, how it had changed her...

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard the tone indicating the rocket had locked on.

She took a deep breath, and jerked the trigger twice, sending two rockets streaking towards the tank.

She fought hard to keep the lock on the target, battling her shivering body and shot nerves.

What seemed like minutes, or maybe hours latter they impacted, and exploded in a ball of fire, showering the overpass in holographic debris.

The round ended and the room returned to it's normal shade of prototype white.

She picked up her rifle and exited the room, moderately satisfied with herself. Now all that was left was to talk to one of the high ranking officials that had been watching her and wait to return to active duty.

She entered the observation room wearing her full battle armor and sidearm, eager to impress her superiors with the image of a battle ready Marine.

A Brigadier General with a perfect flat-top haircut and freshly ironed set of fatigues who's name tape read Polaski approached her. He was flanked by several high ranking officers and NCOs, including a Lieutenant Colonel and a Sergeant Major.

She saluted him crisply.

"Impressive job Corporal," he said as he returned her salute, "You did the Corps proud."

"Thank you sir," she responded with a smile, "am I clear to return to active duty sir?"

He frowned, and looked down at her legs, shaking his head.

Before his response even left his mouth Willow began to see red. He couldn't seriously deny her the ability to serve after that performance. Could he?

"I'm sorry Corporal, but you've been through enough as it is. Technically I could clear you to return to active duty, but it's up to me to assign you to a post and I can't allow someone in your mental and physical condition to serve in combat."

"What?" She asked in rage, "you've got to be kidding me!"

The General glared at her. "Mind your place Marine. If you'd rather pull guard duty on a deep space listening post for the rest of your career, that can be arranged."

She nodded and looked slightly towards the floor. "Yes sir. Sorry sir."

His expression softened momentarily as he saw the state she was, and he lowered his voice if only slightly. "Corporal, you've been through a lot. There's no reason for you to go rushing back to the front line so soon. I've petitioned to keep you in the ODST's, but you'd be a liability in combat, and I won't put other Marines in danger because of your need for revenge. Now go home, get some rest, and think this over. Dismissed."

She saluted him begrudgingly and turned to leave as quickly as she could. It would only be a matter of time until Sean found her, and he was the last person she wanted to see right now.

As soon as she returned home she fell down onto her couch and buried her face in her hands.

Thoughts, painful thoughts of a life with missing limbs and all of the things it would keep her from doing blazed through her head like a wildfire. The thoughts made her chest feel hopelessly painful, like a rubber bullet had caved in her sternum.

Those thoughts, those vile thoughts about a way out of this pain forever circled her head.

At first she fought them, trying as hard as she could to remind herself of the things she had to live for, but as the pain grew, the thoughts of what she could lose shrunk.

She couldn't live like this.

What the Covenant had done to her was to much for her to bear, and if she couldn't get revenge on them then there was no need for her to continue to suffer.

She walked to her closet and pulled out a small box. It contained an M6 handgun that had belonged to her father during his time in the Marine Corps. It had served him faithfully for years, now it only had one use left.

She loaded it, cambered a round, and pressed it to her temple.

She tried to calm herself. Everything would be over soon. She wouldn't feel sad or empty or lonely or broken any longer.

She took a deep breath, and willed herself to squeeze the trigger.

"Willow. Stop!" She heard someone say just as she was about to do it.

She peeled her eyes open and found Sean looking at her with his hands out towards her. She must have left her door open in her haste and he had walked in to find her like this.

"Willow, put the gun down, you don't need to do this."

That simple comment infuriated her and made the her rage grow even further.

"How can you say that?" She shot back, tapping the muzzle of the gun against her head, "you don't know a thing about me. You don't know why I have to fight. You never will!"

She pressed it to her head harder and tried to shut Sean out.

"Please think about what you're doing," he pleaded, stepping slightly towards her, but she just pressed the gun harder to her head, causing him to stop dead in his tracks.

"You don't have to do this, I can't get you help, I promise."

"Im beyond all help!" She said, gesturing to her legs, "can't you see that?"

"No, Willow, please, you can't," pleaded Sean, the sadness evident in his voice.

"And why can't I?"

A single tear fell down his cheek as he looked at Willow and the state she was in.

"Willow, Please, don't do this..."

For the first time in their confrontation Willow looked Sean dead in the face, and what she found made her resolve all but shatter.

She stopped almost dead in her tracks as she watched the sadness and anguish in his expression. His expression in that moment clearly showed just how much he cared about her.

But how could he care for her so deeply her after all she and done to him?

Her hand began to shake. Half of her body was telling her to pull the trigger, while the other half pleaded with her not to.

"Willow, please give me the gun," said Sean one last time.

Willow closed her eyes, and tensed, ready to pull the trigger. She let out a pained cry, and dropped her hand to her side, letting the gun clatter to the floor.

Sean rushed over to her as she burst into tears and dropped to her knees, kicking away the gun and wrapping her in a restraining hug.

"It's ok," he whispered to her, "it's all going to be ok."

Her mind was absolutely frozen, and she couldn't think straight at all. Her adrenaline was pumping and tears streamed down her face like a river.

"Sean, I'm sorry," she barely managed to say.

He quieted her and pulled her closer.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said firmly, "everything's going to be fine."

He wasn't about to let her go, and she didn't fight his grip. They stayed like that for than a long while as Sean tried to calm Willow to a coherent state.

When she had finally calmed down he released her from his grasp and took her by her wrists. He was still afraid she might try and hurt herself again.

She rested her forehead against his.

How could he care about someone so broken as her? How could anyone care about someone who treated them so poorly? She hadn't had a kind word to say about Sean for days. She wasn't about to pretend that wouldn't cause her to hate someone.

When Willow finally collected herself enough to speak, her voice was hoarse, and she was barely able to speak above a whisper.

"Sean I, I don't want to do that again. It felt awful."

He moved a hand to the back of her head and rubbed gently, soothing her.

"We'll get you help," said Sean, "you'll be just fine. You won't have to go through any of that ever again."

"Help?" She asked in panic, "No. No one can know."

She tried to recoil away from Sean, but he held her tight to his chest.

He didn't understand. No one could know she had tried to do that. They would never let her serve again. She couldn't have something like this on her record if she wanted to have a chance to stay in the Marine Corps.

"Willow!" He said forcefully, looking her dead in the eye.

The unnatural force of his voice caused her to stop struggling.

His eyes were almost angry, but not quite. More just, passionate. Passionate about her, and about her wellbeing.

"You are getting help. I'm not letting you take your own life. I can't..."

Again the anguish returned to his face at the thought of seeing her dead.

The way he said that was unlike Sean had ever spoken to her before. It wasn't gentle, but it also wasn't cruel or cold in any way. For God knows what reason, he really did care for her.

Part of her still wanted to fight back, to lash out at him for no reason other than to distance herself from the world, but that part of her was overwhelmed quickly.

She opened her mouth, and attempted to speak, but nothing came out.

She cursed, and struggled to try and find words to say what was on her mind, and eventually looked at Sean with an apologetic expression.

He smiled weakly and helped her to her feet, not minding her lack of a response. She was still shaking, and tears were still fresh on her cheeks, but she was calm enough to think and walk.

He drove her to the base's hospital, and got her quickly admitted to the mental health unit. Normally they wouldn't have allowed Sean to accompany her into the hospital, but Willow refused to let him leave and she was so distraught that the doctors thought it best to allow him to accompany her for a short time.

Now Sean held her hand as they sat together on the small hospital bed of the plain, sterile, white room that she was to stay in.

Willow hadn't spoken a word the entire time. Sean couldn't tell if she was sad or angry or somewhere in between, but she didn't seem to be in a good place regardless. He smiled at her the entire time. He didn't particularly feel like smiling, but he knew she may get some comfort out of it, and that was a good enough reason to smile in his book.

The door opened several minutes latter, and in walked a shorter brunette woman in scrubs and a lab coat. Her name tag read McCarthy, and she didn't look surprised to see Willow here.

"Willow?" She asked, prompting her to look up at her, "how are you feeling?"

She bit her lip and returned her gaze to the ground in front of her.

"Terrible," she said, leaving out her usual sarcastic remark.

She looked to Sean.

"Corporal Wilson, you're going to have to leave now. I'm sorry."

He nodded, but Willow gripped his hand even more tightly, not willing to let him go. Worry permeated her expression.

"Sean, if you don't talk to me again after today..." She said before her voice trailed off.

He shook his head and kissed her on the top of her head.

"I won't abandon you Willow. Don't worry. I'll still be here when you get out."

She smiled, and just before he wandered out of her reach, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply. As soon as their lips connected it felt like a thousand pound weight had been lifted from her chest and she could breath again.

It was only when she pulled away that she began to feel a little bit embarrassed about doing that in front of doctor McCarthy, and she ended up looking slightly at the floor after releasing him.

"Goodbye Willow," said Sean with a smile.

"Goodbye," she responded.

Willow never thought she would feel this way, but she was sad to see him go.

"He seems nice," said doctor McCarthy, obviously trying to ease her out of her extremely tense state.

Willow's only response to nod.

Willow and doctor McCarthy talked for nearly an hour after that, mostly about what had happened to her and why.

When the topic of PTSD was brought up, Willow became a bit more apprehensive however. PTSD was a weakness she couldn't allow herself to have, but doctor McCarthy wouldn't hear it.

"You know it's perfectly normal for someone who's been through as much as you have to have a disorder like this," said the doctor, trying to reassure Willow, "there's no shame in it."

Again, Willow didn't respond.

Doctor McCarthy bit her lip as she tried to think of a way to help Willow open up.

"Willow, I know you've been through a lot, but trust me, it's nothing anyone around here hasn't been through and made it out perfectly fine."

Willow switched from her relatively calm state to a more tense, angry one, and glared intensely at doctor McCarthy.

"Oh really? When's the last time you lost your legs?" Asked Willow with an acid tongue.

Doctor McCarthy sighed as thought she was mulling over something before finally speaking.

"I served three tours with the ODSTs Willow, I know what combat looks like," she said in honesty.

Willow couldn't have been more surprised.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" She asked, almost in disbelief.

Doctor McCarthy laughed and smiled. "You wouldn't believe how many Marines I told that to that wouldn't talk to me afterwards. As soon as I tell them I'm one of them they all become embarrassed. They think that I'll judge them for having a disorder, but I promise you I won't. I was just as messed up as you are when I came back from operation: TREBUCHET. I nearly drank myself to death one night, thinking I just couldn't bare the pain of my experience any longer. Needless to say that didn't work out well, and I turned my life around and got my MD to help soldiers like you recover."

Willow was completely stunned, she never expect someone like doctor McCarthy who looked so sweet and kind and small and, well, civilian, to understand her situation.

She opened her mouth, willing herself to speak her mind and get the horrible thoughts that clouded her out, but she found that knowing this didn't make it any easier for her to speak. It was still too hard to face the fears that raged in her mind.

"That doesn't make it any easier to talk about this," Willow conceded.

Doctor McCarthy nodded, "I know. I just hope you know that you don't have to feel embarrassed around me. I understand, really, I do."

Willow smiled slightly.

"Thank you."

Doctor McCarthy smiled right back.

They talked for only a while longer before she left before Willow was left with her thoughts once again.

She knew this wasn't as much of a happy ending as it seemed. Help wasn't as simple as Sean had made it out to be, and both of them knew it. She still had a lot to come to terms with, a lot of pain to overcome and a long recovery to make. She reclined back onto the hospital bed and couldn't shake the thought of what she had almost done.

She had almost ended her life, for good.

She knew that probably even more than the day the Covenant took her legs, this day would change her life forever.

* * *

 **So, that's the story. First one I've completed ever.**

 **I don't think this one counts though...**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. It was hard to write but certainly worth it.**


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